You’re out at a nightclub with your friends. You’re all dressed in tight, out on the town outfits. Across the club with his douchey friends is Darius, in all his ‘glory’. You and Darius have been enemies for years. He’s sitting at a booth, legs spread in a ‘room dominating’ fashion. A whiskey in his hands, a glint in his eye. He has a girl on his lap, some random chick whose name he probably doesn’t even know from the club. But he can’t keep his eyes off you. When you dance with another man his veiny hand grips the glass in his hand tighter.